I'll Fade
by A-Truth
Summary: After the events of Brotherhood, Lucy finds herself in a "black room" of her own- but it's not the Animus... Contains Lucy/Clay.


"I didn't want to save you."

She opened her eyes, braced for a blinding light. No light came. Confused blinks didn't grant her any sight, she's in absolute darkness. She uncurled her arms and loosened her fists. And she lifted her head, turning around, praying for anything to look at. Wasn't it supposed to be bright white light?

"Wanting not to save you didn't help. It never does. I _never_ wanted to save you, never wanted to see your face again. I didn't want any of this."  
Finding her own self to be illuminated, she looked at her slender fingers and turned over her hands. She knew there would be ten, but she counted them anyway. One by one, she folded them down and counted.

"It's your fault, you know."

She pressed her lips together and swallowed. Her throat was dry, but not sore. Her eyes moved around smoothly and she felt them begin to sting.  
"Do you even remember? I promised you I'd never leave your side. We both pretended I had a choice. I promised you a diamond if you promised me your heart. But it's all spades now, isn't it?"

It wasn't hard to balance or orient herself, to her surprise. Where was the voice coming from? She turned her head and feelt a lock of her yellow hair glance her cheek. The tie must have come loose.

"You agreed to stay by my side. We both pretended I could trust you. For a while, I even think I believed it myself."  
Her hands moved automatically to tighten her hair back again. The trembling made it difficult.

"Batting eyelashes and puppy eyes. And I followed you to the guillotine. I held the knife to my own throat and waited for you to tell me when."  
She continued turning her head, pivoting her feet. Her eyes begged for something to lock onto but all they found was darkness.

"You have a sheep's clothing, Lucy. You always did. I still don't know what's under them. I'd like to think it's a woman but I'd be grateful if it was a wolf."  
The words dripped with venom. Lucy took a few tembling steps, but the voice wasn't from any direction. She couldn't pinpoint it, it was everywhere.

"No, you're much worse than a wolf. A wolf kills quickly, and out of need. A wolf makes use of it's victims and is thankful for every day it doesn't starve."  
She felt a tear slip down her cheek. She quickly slapped a hand to her face to hide it.

"Hah! I wonder if crocodiles can cry! Would they be called, "Lucy's tears"? Can you even _feel_ remorse?"

She gritted her teeth and swallowed the lump in her throat. The voice seemed to be focusing, behind her and to the left. She keened her ears and stayed still.  
"Look at me, blathering on. You must be so confused. For the first time in your life, you're standing on one card! Be grateful I can't hear your thoughts, Lucy. It could be your ace."

The voice continued to concentrate, still barely distinguishable but at least she could tell it belonged to a man. "I wonder if you even know, yet. What do you remember?"  
What _did_ she remember? Her name, her address, the essentials. She remembered waking up this morning, eating breakfast. Keeping Desmond in the Animus, driving the van to the Coliseum. She remembered her acting lessons.

But not how she got _here_. Shaun had been jabbering about the symbols around the room, Rebecca had even pulled down her headphones to take it all in. Desmond had touched the apple and then... _And then?_

"It's alright if you can't cry. But don't pretend nothing happened. I've had enough with your pretending._ It doesn't help_. How have you not realized that, yet? You can't possibly _believe_ it helps."  
The voice sounded solid now. Richer, with more personality to it. She thought she could almost recognise...

"... Desmond?"

There was silence, but it spoke volumes. No, this wasn't Desmond. After a painfully long quiet, he spoke again. This time, in a tone of defeat.

"Is that who you want me to be?" The poison was gone from him, in it's place was hopelessness.

"... Shaun, I'm so sorry, I don't know wh-"

"Stop that. You know who I am." The voice had torn at the edges, it betrayed him. His voice had slipped and his weakness had shown, if only for a second. But a second was all she needed. She swiveled on her heels. And there he was, just as she remembered. Blue irises in sunken eyes; smoothed back blonde hair; and careless, partially buttoned clothing. His distinct jawline and curved nose were like something from a dream. She felt as if she was reading his description and imagining how the pieces fit together, rather than actually seeing him again.

"Clay." She said with confidence, praying her voice wouldn't betray her. She had to keep herself solid, had to hold the strings again.

"Lucy." He said it as if he was telling it to a stranger. His eyes spared a glance to her midsection. She kept her eyes locked on his. If he was trying to make her look away, she wasn't going to be fooled so easily. "Where are we, Clay?" Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy but her voice was strong. "Is this the Animus?" She waved a hand behind her, gesturing to the big empty blackness around them.

"No." Clay took a slow, easy step toward her. The blood drained from her face as he moved. He seemed so _real_...

"Okay, I'll bite. I know you're dead. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Eyes can be tricked." He casually continued walking toward her. If they were to extend their arms to one another, their fingers would touch.

"Not this time. You're dead, and nothing will change that truth." She said it with all the confidence she could muster, and resisted a sigh of relief when her tone didn't betray her fear. Her own thoughts were her only card. They had to be an ace.

"You're one to talk about 'truth'. I can't help but wonder if you told me a single thing that was true." His path had angled, he didn't seem to be coming right at her anymore. She wondered if he ever was coming at her, or if he had always been glancing to her right.

"Nothing is true." The words came out before she had even thought them through. Of course she felt foolish when he laughed at her words.  
"Ah, yes, the infamous Creed! A built-in justification for murder. 'Everything is Permitted'! Who could turn it down?" His satirical grin was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. Lucy caught herself imagining all but his smile vanishing.

"It's not that literal." Her voice slipped. He noticed.

"Oh, of course." He was behind her now, slowly moving in tighter circles. She followed him with her head, but kept her stance broad and braced. If anything were to happen, she would be ready to run. Or fight.

"You haven't told me where we are." She turned her head, but he was gone from her sight. She panicked for a second before he returned to the peripherals of her vision. Could he vanish on command in this place?

"No, I haven't."

"Do you plan to?"

"I haven't decided yet. To be honest I'm a little surprised you don't know." What could that mean? Her hand drifted to her midsection. She felt something cold and sticky and her face betrayed her. Blood. A squeal escaped her as she looked down, pulling her hand away to reveal a bright red palm. Her white shirt had a blossom of red that extended down her side, the dark marks on her jeans touched her knee and wrapped around her thigh. Clay said something, but all she heard was pounding and ringing. She pressed her hands to the injury, tears falling from her eyes and landing on her fingertips. There was no point in masking her thoughts anymore- this was serious. She let her panic make itself known. The blood felt cold on her hands. She stumbled backwards, barely catching herself before falling. Clay rested his hand on hers and gently pulled them away from her wound. He had blood on his arm, too. Was it hers? She looked up at him desperately, begging this not to be what she knew it was. His forearms were stained with red, but from his own body. It slowly dripped from his fingertips, landing on the blackness and leaving small marks where the ground must be. His eyes spoke understanding, maybe even compassion.

"Clay... I don't know..." It became more and more difficult to speak through her sobs. She searched his eyes for answers. "We...we're both..."

"I guess we get a _Second Chance_, after all." She fell onto him, landing heavily with arms around him. Tears fell from her face and wet his back. His arms slowly returned the hug, and he leaned his face into her. She let herself cry. For the first time, she actually _let_ herself cry. Clay was cold in her arms, and, she had to assume, she was cold in his.

"This was okay, once. Holding you like this..." She said, once her breathing had stabilized. "I wish it had never changed."

He jerked away from her, her blood staining him where they had touched. "You wish it- Lucy, you _did_ this! You pulled my strings, and when I saw who was holding them you locked me in that place! Or don't you remember? _This_ doesn't change anything!" He spread his arms, gesturing to the blackness around them. "This is a different game, but the players are the same, Lucy! Your body may be wormfood now, but you're still the toxic person you always were! God damn it, Lucy! Look at yourself! In life, you bathed in blood! How can you even be sure that that is your own?" He waved a bloodied hand at her torso. "You were a virus, a poison in me! From the minute we met it was months of torture before I finally kicked it! And what a _generous_ thing it was!" He could barely contain himself, spitting seething words at her. He turned away from her, teeth clenched, but his breath wasn't heavy. In fact, his chest didn't move at all. Of course it didn't. She wondered briefly why hers still raised and fell. Habit, she had to assume.

Lucy wished she could voice regret, but didn't think there was any inside her. She stepped over to him and reached a slender finger to him, gently touching his back and moving her body into the touch, until she had an arm over his shoulder and her other hand on his chin. She would hold the strings again- if she couldn't breathe her regret she would speak it another way. She looked into his hardened blue eyes and waited for them to meet hers. He glowered at the ground, but it didn't take long before his will broke. As soon as they locked eyes, he couldn't look away. She guided his chin down to her height and their lips met. It was brief, but it was enough. He pulled away, but her poison had been administered. He turned so she couldn't see his face, but she knew he was cursing himself.

It was indeed a different game now, but they were still the same players.

She had played her ace, and nothing had changed.


End file.
